


A small fortune

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Fortune and wealth are not the same thing





	A small fortune

You wouldn't know it to look at him but Jack was worth a small fortune. Well, in the literal sense, Ianto thought. He already knew Jack, the person, was beyond priceless.

Torchwood received a colossal amount of funding from the monarchy to keep its operations going. More so now that the London branch was defunct, even though there were several government departments that balked at the numbers presented in the annual budget.

Luckily, it was only behind the closed doors of cabinet meetings that such things were discussed. There was a high level of dissent amongst the ranks that Torchwood shouldn't be receiving that kind of funding, given that they no longer saw the direct benefit of any of it. At least when London had been in operation, they received regular reports about new technologies that were being developed and often produced en masse to be provided to the armed forces and the like. Now they saw nothing. All they got was the vaguest of briefings from that insufferable little man John Frobisher.

Still, you couldn't argue with the Royal Family. If they wanted Torchwood, then Torchwood got money. And a lot of it. At the end of the day, it was expensive saving the world on a regular basis. It was also hard to argue with the incredibly detailed budgets that were provided, outlining just how much everything would cost. And who could say they knew better than Mr Jones, considering they managed to balance their budget year after year?

Despite the quantum of financial backing Torchwood received, Jack still only drew a salary just like the rest of them. In Ianto's opinion, the amount was an utter disgrace, and an absolute pittance for the hard work and sacrifice Jack made each and every single day. Ianto often jokingly complained that he himself didn't get paid enough, even though in other circles it would have been considered a princely sum. Owen on the other hand complained he didn't get paid enough, and actually meant it. He probably had a point. And Jack received more than any of them, but still, it was far from compensatory.

Regardless, he'd been on earth for over one hundred and forty years, so even the most marginal of savings was bound to accumulate noticeably over time.

Ianto knew all this because he handled Jack's finances. First week of the month all of the statements came rolling in, dozens and dozens of them. Jack had more bank accounts than, what? Ianto couldn't even think of a good comparison. They all had to be checked and reconciled, then sorted and filed away.

Ianto knew there were still more bank accounts than what he received paperwork for. The first time he'd done Jack's tax return, HMRC had come back and asked about interest income not declared for several other accounts in his name. Ianto simply took it in his stride, asking Jack for the interest amounts and nothing more. If Jack didn't want him to see the statements and what those particular accounts were being used for, that was okay with him. The man had a right to some privacy. All he knew was that they weren't for personal spending, at least not his own and what he spent on the team.

He didn't lavish them with outrageously expensive gifts, he simply rewarded them like any good boss, treating them to a bottle of wine here, a box of chocolates there, or maybe a nice weekend away. Things that said thank you and I really appreciate everything you do, because it can be such a thankless job. The one exception Ianto could remember was the new car, but then he'd managed to write that back against Torchwood's accounts and reimburse Jack. After all, it had been totalled in the line of duty, and the insurance policy was in Torchwood's name anyway.

Jack had told him that once upon a time, when he'd first landed in Cardiff, and before he'd first started working for Torchwood, that he'd spent money hand over fist. That it would burn a hole in his pocket until he'd done every last penny in pubs, illegal gambling and whore houses, killing time that seemed like it was going to stretch on forever. Then he'd found out that for him, time literally was going to stretch on forever, and that he'd have to wait a century to find The Doctor again.

He'd started getting smart about his money, stowing it away. He had the good sense to invest in government bonds just before the First World War, knowing it was coming, and knowing that the rate on them would increase significantly in the next few years while he was busy at Torchwood and stuck in the trenches in France. It was ironic to think that the money he'd invested was now paying for the boxes of bullets he was loading into his pistol.

After the Great War, he put money into the stock market and watched it grow, pulling it out again at the end of 1928. He laughed when Ianto accused him of insider trading. It was one of the benefits of his Time Agency travels.

Another tranche of investing in government bonds, and companies that would manufacture munitions, aircraft and staple goods like clothes and canned goods, saw him through a second war.

Year after year rolled on, and so did Jack's account balances.

On top of that, Jack had amassed a significant property portfolio. That was something Ianto had asked him about. Why do you live at the hub when you own all these properties? The answer always came back the same. Every now and then, Jack got some cockamamie idea in his head that he was going to put down roots, and so he'd buy the first place that caught his eye, however impractical or extravagant. He might live there for a year or two, but always walked away from it in the end. Sometimes, he said it was because it held too many memories, and sometimes it was just because he couldn't sit still.

Ianto could imagine perhaps there'd been lovers who'd lived with him. If something had happened to them, a likely scenario working for Torchwood, Jack might not have been able to bear going back. His feet would take to wandering again, taking repose wherever he could find it. A bedsit, a lover's bedroom, or out under the stars and open skies. In more modern times, since he'd taken over charge of Torchwood Three, the hub would once again become his sanctuary, until the next time a flight of fancy took hold of him.

Ianto had arranged for the properties to be listed with fifteen different agents across the city. It meant a lot of paperwork, but there was no sense in anyone knowing just how many properties he owned, and it helped manage the day to day maintenance required to keep that many homes suitably tenanted. Plus an agent might get lazy and complacent if he though he could just let the commissions roll in without lifting a finger. Better to keep them on their toes in Ianto's opinion.

Jack was quite literally a multi millionaire, and he could have hung up his boots and moved to a tropical island if he wanted, lounging about and spending his millions. But instead he still lived every day like an ordinary Joe, or at least an immortal ordinary Joe.

After all, money was irrelevant when you had everything else that truly mattered. That was the sign of true wealth.


End file.
